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(no subject)

Who:

semper_cogitans, though with replies coming from

herpderpetile, and

i_speak_softly. I pity anybody else who might join in advance :|;;
What: Probably the most awkward, hormone-spiked bath ever
When: March 31st, during the Unofficial Derpturtle Sleepover
Where: House 55
Summary: Robert has just the luck to be turned into a mutant red-eared slider in the middle of spring mating season, which, needless to say, is making everything a little awkward. Especially when he's been in the same house as his boyfriend (and his family) for a few days. And then, of course, he's neglecting to keep himself hydrated, so clearly Don has to get him into a bath. ~~This won't turn awkward or fail miserably at all.~~
Rating: F for Fail. No, really, it's probably going to get into NC-17 territory, though knowing how much Robert and Don suck at emotional stuff, anything along those lines will likely be awkward and abortive.

So how uncomfortable is it to be in your partner's house in the middle of a mating season while simultaneously being aware of how much the rest of his family dislikes you?

Very uncomfortable, that's how uncomfortable. And that is why Robert has completely immersed himself in work on his nanocomputer, both to ignore the subtle anxiety of the various Hamatos not named Donatello looking at him disapprovingly and to try to suppress the increasingly-urgent desire to do more than just cuddle with Donatello. It was decidedly unprofessional to feel like that... and, truth be told, Robert was more than a little nervous about the idea. Eight years of self-imposed cloistered distance from people meant that sexuality was something he hadn't really ever gotten a chance to envision as anything more than furtive, broken fantasies. Never mind that his emotional abilities were skewed enough and most of his fantasies ended up depressing him somewhat because they were about Benjamin... though, the subject of them had, admittedly, changed somewhat in three months.

Okay, changed a lot.

Clearly this mental topic deserved to be crushed down in favour of typing even more fiercely at the ergonomically-designed miniature keyboard of his nanocomputer. Never mind that only having two fingers was kind of throwing him off his typing stride. Never mind the strange lethargy and general illness he felt. I have to distract my mind from this...

Somebody more knowledgeable of turtles - for example, an actual turtle - might realize Robert's more than a little dehydrated right now. That's what happens when you isolate yourself in a house where people tend to congregate around the kitchen and steadfastly refuse to do anything but work in a desperate attempt to push the hormone-induced thoughts out of your head. (And it's funny, because Robert normally wouldn't deny thoughts like this. But there isn't anywhere private enough to indulge them...)

Anybody feel like wresting him from his engrossed state at the nanocomputer?

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"Lethargic and mildly ill. And ridiculously aroused." Robert shakes his head tiredly, especially at that last part. "... This is all rather overwhelming. It... wasn't so bad at first, but..." It starts wearing on you when you can't do anything about it.

"... The lethargy is strange, though. I have not... done anything particularly exhausting..." Robert hasn't yet figured out that his body is desperately craving water. He's still operating on human logistics for that part.

(And what.)

Don's two days as a human make him entirely sympathetic to Robert's plight. "I know. It probably won't be too much longer." A squeeze on your knee, and he pushes himself to his feet. "I'll be right back, okay?"

And in a moment he does return, bearing an empty glass and a gallon jug of water. Kneeling again, he pours out the first glassful, and hands it to Robert. "Drink."

Robert looks questioningly at Don at this, but he drinks the first glass of water obediently.

And then discovers how thirsty he actually was when that barely sates his parched throat.

"... ah. I... I haven't been drinking anywhere near enough," he mumbles, with an almost apologetic expression. "I... keep forgetting." Well, even as a human, he wouldn't be drinking enough...

Don refills the glass and hands it back. "Slowly."

Which Robert does. Or tries to do. No sense making himself more sick trying to drink it all at once.

Eventually, he finishes the second glass. "Definitely dehydrated, I presume... is there any other way to help with this condition, perhaps?"

He can't help but smile just a little bit. Why do you always make him feel so much better, Donatello? You should stop doing that. It'll only make Robert even more fixated on you.

Don smiles back. "Let me show you something about being a turtle."

Leaving his computer on the floor, where it may or may not be safe from reckless brothers, Don gets up and leads Robert to... the bathroom.

~~This will end entirely well.~~

Robert carries his nanocomputer with him, closing it up into its protective case, and follows Don to... wherever they're going.

Oh.

It's the bathroom.

Robert's amazing amounts of emotional failure stop him from even considering this sexually, at first. Mostly he's just confused. "Whatever are we going here for?"

Don sits on the edge of the tub, pokes the plug into the drain, and turns on the water. "The bathroom, site of that very popular modern convenience, indoor plumbing." He sticks a hand under the water to check the temperature. "And in the absence of better options for swimming, bathing, and soaking, a turtle's best friend."

The idea of soaking seems quite pleasant in this state. And the idea of having Don in the water does too, for an entirely different reason.

Still, Robert just fidgets a bit and looks at Donatello, curious. "Soaking... may you elaborate on the purposes of that?"

As much as it seems like a good idea, it's also a little strange-seeming. And time-wasting-seeming.

"An efficient method of hydration. Also, it feels good." Don gestures to the rapidly-filling tub. "Do you mind if I join you?"

... Even Robert's terribly emotionally-inept mind can hear the unintentionally suggestive wording in that. But he's determined not to let that monopolize anything.

Though he's blushing a nice shade of subtly-orange-green at the moment.

"Er... c-certainly." Robert waits for the bathtub to be less inconveniently half-filled and then attempts to maneouvre himself into it. This is easier thought about than done, and he ends up smacking his shell off the back of the tub in the process.

At least it doesn't hurt.

"Gah. My apologies..." Robert shakes his head sheepishly, running his three-digit hand over his forehead a little anxiously. The promise of close contact - in water, no less - is awakening a bunch of feelings he'd rather have stayed quiet, and now he just looks like a moron. Or more of one.

Co-bathing is no big deal to Don, and after stripping his gear and shutting off the water he slides into the tub, arranging his legs to fit around Robert's. Almost as an afterthought, he reaches back over the edge and grabs two plastic buckets, one of which he offers to Robert.

Normally it wouldn't be a big deal to Robert either. No nudity or sexuality taboo would generally make this simply a matter of professionalism - which is what it is in this case because it's somebody else's house. But it's also not being able to control or even completely fathom all these strange desires that aren't entirely his own.

He takes the bucket handed to him with a mildly confused look. "And this is for...?" Obviously for holding water. But for what reason? They were already sitting in a bathtub.

Robert kind of wants to stroke the thigh nearest him. He doesn't. But it's very tempting.

Damn hormones.

Yes, but the bathtub isn't deep enough. Don demonstrates the use of the bucket by scooping it through the water and upending it over his head. Then, satisfied, he settles back against the wall.

"You know, you said some strange things after you fell in the river."

"Define 'strange'." Robert copies the gesture on himself. It's odd when you don't have any hair to get in the way of the feeling of moisture dripping off your skull.

Very little has not been strange in the past few days. Or the past few weeks. Or months.

Or ever, in Luceti.

He smiles wryly a bit. Who'd've ever thought he would be having this conversation now? Or at all?

"You were very insistent that you didn't know how to swim." He smiles a little. The funny things people say when they're not quite lucid.

"That's because I actually don't. Not at all. As I attempted to explain to you at the time - I never learned how to, on Terra."

It was never necessary and I didn't want to shame myself.

Why is it such a difficult concept to get that Robert can't swim? Really... It's almost embarrassing that Don seems to expect him to be able to and he can't.

"... I could certainly try to learn for you. But it would be very new for me..."

Don blinks. He'd been expecting Robert to laugh and say he didn't remember saying that. But this... makes no sense.

"What do you mean, you didn't learn? You've - never been in the water before?" That's the only context Don can imagine that would prevent a more-or-less able-bodied person from knowing how to swim. But Robert seems to expect swimming to be hard...

Edited 2011-04-01 11:26 (UTC)

"I have never been in a position where I needed to learn to swim," Robert explains, his expression uncomfortable. "Naturally, because I never learned, I was kept from being in deep water in the interests of safety - not as if there is much deep water in Linden to begin with, save the occasional pool facilities in exercise buildings such as gymnasia... not that I would have ever gone there." He shudders slightly.

And swimming would be hard for him. This is the same person who has trouble fathoming walking further than across the village, and swimming is a fairly intensive activity, requiring one's whole body to work instead of just one's extremities.

Some of it is just pure and utter shame at his body, though, but he has no idea how to word this, yet.

Don is slowly beginning to grasp the concept. (He is the smart one.)

"You mean you have to learn to swim? You don't just - do it?"

"Yes. Like I noted to you, it took me a minute to realize that, as a turtle, swimming is instinctual. Humans are not instinctual swimmers - they must learn to swim as a skill. However, humans will instinctually hold their breaths in the absence of air - even a newborn human infant will hold zir breath if immersed in water."

Robert leans back against the wall himself. This is... awkward, isn't it?

This is, in fact, quite mind-blowing. Don needs to stare into space for a minute to think about it.

That's okay. He can stare into space.

Robert will stare at his plastron instead. Why does it have to be so ridiculously appealing right now?

Don't mind Robert blushing while he admires you, Don.

As he so often does, Don blinks back to himself and gives his conclusion without bothering to explain how he got there. "I'm going to teach you to swim."

... And Robert, you're turning colors. The water doesn't feel that warm... "Are you okay?"

Flatly: "No."

Then Robert glances down at the water, mildly uncomfortably, and elaborates, in a rather anxious way... "I'm... so distracted by these desires that my mind keeps... wandering. I apologize. This is highly unprofessional of me..."

He wrings his fingers together lightly, trying to ignore how swollen his tail feels. Ugh, this congested feeling was somewhat miserable. It's ridiculously close to epididymal hypertension, but almost more pervasive.